


Back of a Greyhound Bus

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: She'd finally mustered up the courage to leave. 
-Mild references to physical abuse. 
Completely original work cross-posted from my FictionPress account.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: First piece of original fiction I've gotten around to posting. This isn't overly long, but I have quite a few more on the go at the moment that are much longer. The idea for this one came to me while listening to 'Me Without You' by Jennifer Nettles, so check that song out if you want a feel for where my head was at. I appreciate any and all readership and feedback. 
> 
> AN2: This original work of fiction is the property of its author, should not be used or replicated in any way without prior consent and is intended to bear no resemblance to real persons or circumstances.

///

Gabrielle LaCosta sat at the back of the bus, eyes closed and head against the windowpane. Ginger hair that normally saw every strand systematically placed was now disordered either by effects of temperature or movement. Tires rolled underfoot, ride smooth but for the occasional speed bump. None of them had caused enough turbulence to shake her awake for more than a few seconds, and she was only totally roused when the vehicle made a pit stop. 

 

As she orientated herself, she heard the scuffling of people readjusting in their seats or abandoning them all together, making their way to descend the stairs of the bus for smoke breaks or to stretch their stiffened limbs. Darkness had begun to blanket the sky, but she kept her aviator style sunglasses on as she took tentative steps toward the front of the bus. The air was chill, hitting her like a wall as shoes connected with pavement. It wasn't as brutal as it had been when she'd left, but was indicative of the fact her destination was still many miles off. 

 

Letting out a breath, she smiled to herself as it took shape in front of her and dug her hands further into her pockets, mentally chastising herself for not having worn gloves. 

 

“Smoke, darlin'?” A female voice, hoarse no doubt from a heavy habit of its own, penetrated her thoughts. 

 

She should refuse, was trying to quit; told herself this time would be the last time. Quitting fit right in with the new life she was finally set to embark upon, but as she'd so often learned within the last year, vices were named such for a reason, old habits died hard, and ripping yourself away was easier said than done.

 

“Sure,” she said easily, as if she hadn't resolved to quit at all, taking the thin stick of tobacco gratefully and digging in her opposite coat pocket for a lighter. “I forgot mine,” she said sheepishly, coming up short. 

 

“One sec,” the unknown woman said as she finished her own cigarette and stomped it into the ground with the toe of her shoe. Fishing her own light from her pocket, she flicked the button with her thumb, motioning for the younger to lean forward so the tip of her stick connected with the flickering flame and lit it. 

 

“Thanks.” She smiled a half smile after taking a first drag and exhaling, watched the smoke puff billow outward from her and dissolve.

 

“No problem. Where you headed, honey?”

 

“California,” she answered. “You?” 

 

“The same.” She took out another cigarette. “My daughter lives out there,” she offered in explanation as she lit up.

 

“Oh. Nice.” She'd never been good at small talk, nor conversation in general. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if her often meek, reserved personality was more than partially to blame for the situation she now found herself in. 

 

“She's about your age,” the older woman mused, pulling her from her thoughts again, picking up the lull in conversation. She seemed to sense Gabrielle's awkwardness and attempted to put her at ease. “How old are you, love?”

 

She smiled. Nobody had called her love in a long time. Not since her mother, before she'd succumbed to a hard fought battle with the monster that was cancer, missing out on her daughter turning five.

 

“Just turned twenty-two.” She stomped her cigarette out with the toe of her boot, shaking her head to indicate a negative when the woman opposite her offered up a second. “No thanks. Been trying to quit,” she admitted. 

 

“Ah,” she smiled knowingly. “Been there. Many times. My daughter never started, thankfully. I guess being a doctor she learned enough of the adverse effects to be turned off it.”

Gabrielle nodded politely. 

 

“She's twenty five,” she stated, backpedaling to the previous topic of their conversation.

 

“Do you see her often?” 

 

“Never used to.” She stamped her feet together in effort to keep the blood flowing, eradicate the numbness the cold had awarded them. “Was offered a job out there and jumped at it. Bought a one way ticket.” 

 

“I hope she appreciates you.”

 

There weren't many things she remembered of her mother, having been so young when sickness took her. It was funny though how little tidbits and sporadic memories stuck or resurfaced. The sound of her voice would have long ago been forgotten were it not for her father's old home videos and recorded tapes, but she could vividly recall the pet name of 'love' being given her without any reminder from others, thought of the smiley faces she'd draw on the buns of her burgers with condiments every time she utilized a bottle of ketchup, and still found it easier to sleep knowing the hand sewn pillow she'd given her was somewhere on her bed. Worn and decrepit though it was, it had held her together through some of the bleakest and toughest times.

 

“We're very close.” The elder woman pulled her from reverie a third time. “Talk at least twice a day.” Silence hung between them for a while. “Is your Mum bringing you out that way, too?” 

 

“My Mama's deceased,” she said, having become masterful at concealing the emotion it evoked to disclose it. 

 

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Her expression softened. It was obvious she wanted to ask what had happened, but didn't want to overstep. 

 

“Cancer,” she offered, so the other didn't have to ask. 

 

“Awful disease, that.”

 

“It is.” 

 

“So what is it that's got you travelin', then?” Gabrielle took notice for the first time of a distinct lilt, strong indication that she'd come from somewhere far and away from America. 

 

“Attempt at a new life, I guess.” Suddenly she craved another burst of nicotine, didn't want to trouble her for it. 

 

The call was made to board again, and the two women made their way over, ascended the steps. Gabrielle took up home in her previous seat, finally deciding to take off the sunglasses whose rims were pushing mercilessly into the puffed flesh of her face. Left eye still a grotesque shade of black-purple, she'd hoped make-up would downplay its severity, opted for ultimate coverage when it hadn't done the job. 

“Holy cow.” Someone in close proximity let out a low, surprised whistle, and she was surprised to see the woman from outside sidling into the seat next to hers. “What happened?” It was asked without reservation, but laced with genuine concern. Knowledge of this was the only thing keeping the young woman's anger in check. 

 

Quiet hung over them, and she was unsure how to answer; didn't really want to, if she were honest with herself. Images of his face flooded her again, probably would many times over for days and weeks to come. Excuses were made, sins forgiven time and time again. Never when they'd first met did she think he would, could become that person – someone short fused, anger misguided, an expert in the tactics of gas lighting, his manipulations chipping away at her worth and esteem, turning her further and further into someone she didn't recognise, didn't want to be, an evolution she couldn't seem to halt. 

 

“I fell a few days ago,” she lied, knowing it was a piss poor and flimsy excuse, but unable to come up with anything better.

 

“Mm,” the older woman nodded. Whether accepting the answer or not, Gabrielle didn't know, but she didn't push. 

 

It struck her in the silence, tires whirring consistently and comfortingly underfoot as they trudged along again, how contradictory and mixed up her feelings had become after having strength enough to leave. She'd finally accepted her best friend's offer of a one way ticket out of hell. They'd been stealthy and meticulous in planning her departure together, come up with an excuse to get him away from her long enough for her to make her final exit. She thought she'd feel stronger, finally having resolve enough to have done it, but she was learning it was a second-by-second, hour-by-hour experience. That first taste of freedom had been exhilarating, but she'd looked over her shoulder every few seconds until safely aboard the bus. Some days she missed him, the gentle, understanding person she knew and who made appearances only occasionally after a while. 

 

It seemed weird now, to be on the way to somewhere where she could begin again, ask herself what she wanted to do every single day and not have to feel badly for it or worry over repercussion of any decision. Waking up early, fueled only on the caffeine of a warm cup of coffee while she sat off to herself witnessing the pinks and oranges of the sky give way to total daylight as the sun rose, little pleasures she had engaged in so often had begun to seem like tangible possibilities again. She had never been someone whose backbone was incredibly strong, unapologetic or boisterous in actions. Before what all had occurred had taken place, she never would have described herself as weak, rather someone who'd taken longer than many to find and come into herself. Now, she'd readily admit to both.

 

It would take time, but eventually, the whole world would feel new again. She was scared, but hope was there, peeking out from under the rubble she'd been surrounded by for so long. Alyssa had assured her not to worry about the consequences of a hasty departure, had promised she'd find a way to deal with him safely if he deflected the blame onto her, and she wanted to believe her. Her stomach still twisted in knots every time she thought about it. She'd changed her phone number, did what she had to step by step to untie herself from him, but she'd promised to find a safe way to get in contact once she was settled. 

 

///

“Honey, we're here.” She felt smoke break woman shaking her awake hours later, and realised she must have drifted off again. Rubbing her eyes, she winced when her forgotten injuries began to pulsate under her touch. Collecting her purse and what little she had with her, she took a minute to regain strength and equilibrium before standing, replaced her aviators though she was past the point of needing them. 

 

“Whoever did that to you, you're better off without him,” she whispered into her ear. 

 

“How did you...?” The sentence trailed off, surprised etched on her face.

 

“Takin' up smoking ain't the only bad decision I've made.” Winking, she smiled warmly, made her way to the front.

 

Gabrielle watched her go, rose to make her own ascension. This life she was heading into was new, uncertain on almost all fronts. She had little more than the clothes on her back, but the cage door had been opened; she was being set free. Soon, tears no longer pooled in her eyes, she'd be unrecognisable. Like a pretty blue bird, she would fly. When she finally rose high enough to look comfortably behind, she'd remember the help of a friend, the kindness of a stranger, and a long journey at the back of a Greyhound bus.


End file.
